a pretty place to play

A couple of weeks ago I was sitting in a bar with some of my friends when, apropos to nothing, one of them made a comment about how content I looked. It was an accurate observation, I am content with my life, I desire no more, I am satisfied, and it is wonderful.

To me, being content means that as an individual I feel whole. I am self-sufficient, I can look after myself, I can inspire myself to grow and develop, I can tell myself to calm the f*** down, I am happy in my own company, I can make choices and say 'yes' and 'no' in total clarity. I have the confidence to seek help, but I don't need anyone (unless I want them, which is different). Reaching this point after years of insecurity is a revelation. To feel entirely complete in myself is like nothing I can describe.

Being content doesn't mean I don't want to grow. It doesn't mean that I don't want to develop further as an individual. It doesn't mean I want to sit still. You can be content with yourself and yet feel restless to strive. If anything that restlessness is a major contributor to how content I feel, constantly growing gives me more satisfaction than anything in life. It may sound like an oxymoron, but if I was static I wouldn't be content.

For much of my life I've felt like I've had to impress people, like I've had to work hard to fit in and make other people happy. Having that weight lifted and knowing that I'm ok is the greatest gift I've ever given myself. It was hard won, but the work paid off.